


A Test of Patience

by Mairia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Oneshot, Speculation, spoilers for season 7 trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mairia/pseuds/Mairia
Summary: Lord Baelish’s words are starting to grate on his nerves though Jon tried to remain unaffected, something broke when those words left the man’s mouth and the next thing he knew, he was choking him. Based on the Game of Thrones Season 7 Official Trailer.





	A Test of Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, I'm not dead! But anyway, I'm supposed to focus on life but I can't help but turn that choke scene into a fic because why not? This is only a headcanon on what had gone through and those nice people from tumblr gave me an idea.

He was taking a short brisk walk towards the crypts to gather some courage to face the power thrust onto him. His footsteps were barely audible as he tried not to disturb anyone who might have the mind to visit the place though he doubted anyone would lounge around here still it wouldn’t hurt to be careful.

 

And then he felt something watching him, Jon tensed, and after a second, he craned his neck to see who it was but was surprised to see nothing of sorts, the corridors were completely empty except him, he shifted on his feet and returned his gaze back in front of him. First time visiting the crypts after a long time and someone is trying to haunt him, he hoped it was just his imagination.

 

Jon continued his walk, idly observing the path before him as his thoughts wondered around his current dilemma. He doesn’t really know if he had what it takes to be the designated king that they wanted him to be, he knew it was not his rightful place and instead it should belong to his sister yet she didn’t do anything to prevent the declaration of the lords.

 

He let out a barely audible sigh, one hand reaching to his side of the head as he contemplated whether or not this really is the best course of action—he felt like this authority doesn’t really belong to him, he was just the bastard son of the Lord Stark of Winterfell, nothing of significance and nothing to inherit.

 

But yet, he was suddenly being given the title of King—not just any king but the King in the North—somehow, that made it more complicated and frightening, their expectation of him to guide them would all be drenched when they learned that he doesn’t exactly know how to rule like a king, this should have been Robb, not him.

 

But Robb is dead, and only his siblings are left to rule Winterfell.

 

“I see you’re having quite a problem,” Jon tensed, one hand falling to his scabbard as he spun around to face the threat only to step back as his gaze took in the sight of the man he was tempted to avoid at all costs.

 

Standing there, in black, was Littlefinger.

 

He fought back the urge to walk away and instead let go of the handle of his sword as Jon straightened and gave a sharp nod. “Lord Baelish, what can I do for you?” Just staring at the man’s eyes is enough for him to become repulsed, this is the man that Sansa had warned him about not to trust at all costs.

 

Jon can see why, even without anything suggesting that the lord was a threat—there was this aura around him that spoke of confidence that made someone like him uncomfortable just being in the same vicinity as him. And then he remembered another reason why he doesn’t like this man, he is the one that sold Sansa to the Boltons.

 

It was suddenly harder for him to stay still, he clenched his fists to prevent him from doing anything untoward against the man, Sansa wanted this man around—he doesn’t know why but she seemed to be scheming something as of late, he was not aware if it has something to do with the welfare of the Winterfell or this man.

 

“Shall we say,” Littlefinger drawled out, his gaze penetrating him as he regarded the man in front of him. “A preposition.” At those words, Jon immediately became on guard, trying to see if something is amiss as he returned the man’s gaze with one of his gazes that would guarantee to make someone uneasy though it seems the Lord was unaffected by it, just staring at him in concealed amusement.

 

He doesn’t trust this man one bit, something just screamed deceit within him and Jon knows enough to trust his instinct when it comes to things like this however he knew better than to deny the man the chance to speak his thoughts, so Jon let it be, raising an eyebrow as he said. “What kind of preposition?”

 

“When all hope had been lost, the Knights of the Vale had come to your rescue and greatly increased the odds of winning the battle against the Boltons,” Littlefinger paused, observing the man in front of him with a keen eye. Jon bit back a sigh of annoyance, if the man would just spit it out and get out of his way before something untoward happens then everything would be a normal day though it seemed that the man in front of him had this sudden goal of lingering as long as possible.

 

Jon nodded as he processed his words, he bit out. “I am grateful for your help, Lord Baelish.” _Maybe if you hadn’t sold Sansa to the Boltons then I would have been more grateful for your help._ He mentally shook his head at that though as he raised a brow and asked. “Though what does this have to do with your preposition?”

 

If there is anything he can do to shove the Lord out of the way and packing then we would give him anything just to see him back in the Vale where he was supposed to be and not loitering around Winterfell where he can always be seen looming around Sansa.

 

That was another thing he had been burying deep within his mind, Littlefinger is always around Sansa—talking with her, walking with her and who knows what, it had been eating at him but he doesn’t let it show and although he wanted to ask Sansa why she is letting the man near her, something seemed to be stopping him and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a dreadful thing.

 

“All I asked for return is Lady Sansa’s hand.”

 

Jon blinked, a look of confusion on his face as he tried to analyze those words and after a moment, his confusion turned to distrust and wariness as he narrowed his eyes and regarded the man in front of him. “No.” Suddenly, as if things are coming to place—he now realized all the things that Littlefinger has been doing around here, the way he looked at Sansa and the fact that he still hadn’t returned back to the Vale.

 

Littlefinger gave him that deceptively polite smile though his eyes tell a different story. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

 

Jon bit his lips to keep from scoffing, this man is downright insane. Who would give Sansa away to someone that had made her life more miserable than it already is. “No.” His eyes still narrowed as he repeated those words, he would die first before he would give his sister to Littlefinger.

 

“I’m afraid you don’t seem to understand the situation, _milord_.” Littlefinger said, the word ‘milord’ rolling off his tongue with a hint of mockery that Jon was sure is intended. “With House Stark marrying the Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale, it would increase your army by tenfold, after all, the Knights of the Vale are more well-off than most of the other armies in Westeros, they hadn’t participated in war for years while the other houses had their armies took great damage from the War of the Five Kings.”

 

Jon didn’t budge, his hands clenching on either side of his body as he stared at the man. So, this is why he is still here in Winterfell? This was his plan all along? He couldn’t believe that this man arriving is the reason they even survived the battle against the Boltons, fate really is cruel.

 

“It isn’t my decision to force Sansa to remarry once more after what you set her into.” He wouldn’t let Littlefinger have his way, he promised to protect Sansa and she may not believe that he could protect her—he would still show to her that she doesn’t need to worry about those kinds of men anymore because he would do anything to prevent her from succumbing to that fate Littlefinger had thrown her into.

 

Even with all those dismissals, Littlefinger still had the nerve to look at him straight in the eye as he continued to convince him. “You don’t seem to notice, milord, but I would take care of Lady Sansa unlike her previous husband.” He said those words as if he would believe them.

 

Jon fought the urge to assault him as he tried to calm down, this man is just begging to be punched in the face. Take care of her? How can he take care of her when he himself is the one that sold her to the abusive husband and if the rumors were true about Littlefinger—that no information escape his notice—then that must had mean that the behavior of the Bolton Bastard hadn’t escaped his notice.

 

Just thinking about that is making his blood boil, he tried to take a deep breath and closed his eyes—he is fighting the urge to break the bones of this man, he reminded himself that it would be fruitless to antagonize the man as it would only result to Sansa becoming disappointed at his attitude but he really wanted to hurt him.

 

“The difference between Lord Bolton and I is simple, _milord._ ” Littlefinger started, his gaze penetrating towards the man in front of him as Jon opened his eyes to stare him down, daring him to say anything. Baelish let the corners of his mouth curved upwards as he regarded the man before him and then he said those words.

 

“I love Sansa.”

 

And then the next thing Littlefinger knew is those hands choking him, a look of surprise overtaking his features as he stared down at the man glaring up at him with the eyes of someone with vengeance. It was silent for a moment, their gazes meeting with each other—one of disbelief, the other, of furious. And then the boy’s eyes darkened as he responded to his words.

 

“You dare tell me that after everything she had endured because of your decision?!” Jon glared, his hands tightening around the neck of this vile man. How dare he declared those words as if he hadn’t done anything wrong to her? Didn’t make her life as miserable as possible? How can he say that he loves her when he only saw her as a pawn for his to move?

 

“You love her yet you make her suffer? You don’t know the scars she had received! The nightmare engraved on her dreams because of your _affection_ , tell me, how can you say you love her when you further ruined her already shattered life?!” Jon watched the man squirm, trying to escape his hold but he was having nothing of it, tightening his hold as tight as possible.

 

Littlefinger tried to respond, gasping for air as he vehemently observed. “Jon?” The sudden voice made him falter, he turned around and saw Sansa walking down their path with an unreadable look on her face as she analyzed the scene before her and then promptly shook her head.

 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” She said, her gaze remained towards him. With a reluctant huff, Jon released him and watched Littlefinger took a huge gulp of breath as he pressed a hand on his neck.

 

Jon pressed his lips to a thin line and focused his attention towards her though she had her gaze narrowed towards Littlefinger before she turned around and caught his gaze. “You need to rest, let us take a walk outside to calm your head.” She said as she started walking without a second glance towards the Lord Baelish.

 

He stared at her before he returned his gaze towards the man and gave him one final look of warning.

 

If it weren’t for Sansa, he wouldn’t have stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot wait for Season 7, my body is ready for all the angst, drama and everything in between.


End file.
